Title: Do Unto Others: Tension

Author: DC Luder

Summary: Gotham City's protectors must defend it against a new predator.

Rating: M

Author's Note: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

A/N 2: This chapter has been modified from its original version.

^V^

Wayne Manor, June 27th, 9:03 a.m.

A nightmare had its grasp me in its grasp, dark shadows fluttering out of reach, dead, naked girls stacked in piles, a faceless man wielding a bloody knife. With the body count standing at eleven with an unpredictably quickening pace, I deserved far worse than restless sleep. I heard Selina's soft voice and when I looked around, I found her laying in a cold dark alley, motionless, her attacker casually walking away.

My eyes opened abruptly as I felt sharp nails gently tracing down the biceps of my left arm, followed by Selina whispering, "Wakey, wakey…"

The master bedroom was still cloaked in darkness, the blackout drapes keeping the early summer sunlight away. Slowing my breaths, I let my head roll over to look at Selina, barely making out her features in the dim room. Even without seeing, I knew her short hair was a mass chaotic after a good night's rest. As I recalled, she had the faintest sunburn on her cheeks and nose and most likely had a crease across her cheek from the pillowcase.

I glanced over her silhouette to see the alarm clock putting it just after nine in the morning, clearing my throat harshly before speaking, "I was awake three hours ago."

She shimmied closer to me before wrapping her arms around my neck, pressing her smiling lips into the bare skin of my neck. When she spoke, I felt her toes tracing the contours of my ankles, "You should have woken me up. Who knows what would have happened."

"You would have yelled at me for waking you up at six in the morning."

"A possibility."

"More like a probability," I replied quietly.

Alfred had let me sleep in, an uncustomary practice and a cherished gift during the week but a necessity on the weekend. On Sundays, he generally allowed me to catch up on the sleep I deprived myself during the week, often until noon. When I had surfaced from the Cave earlier that morning, I had been surprised to see Selina sleeping in my bed. As always, she had settled in the middle, with three of the four down pillows claimed as her own and the blankets nestled about her long form. I had managed to get in beside her without disturbing her sleep, although her soft snores had suggested that it wasn't that difficult of a task.

Selina yawned and stretched her arms out from under the blankets, making a reach for the remote that controlled the room's lighting, as well as the drapes. "So, what are your plans?"

"Sleep," I grumbled as I leaned over her suddenly, obtaining the remote and throwing it across the room and onto a chaise.

She had laughed softly before asking, "Not eating?"

"Sleep, then food," I replied.

I did my best keeping my expression blank as her fingers teased the flesh along my ribcage, but tickles turned to pinches and they traveled south down the center of my midsection before making a grab between my legs. Tolerance flat-lining, it took a half-second for me to lean over her once more and pin her to the bed. She barely had a chance to utter my name in protest.

"Sleep. Food. Then… maybe... Agreed?"

She lifted her head and kissed me on the lips, "Agreed."

Just as I pulled away, a tone sounded from the bedside table followed by Alfred's voice on the phone's intercom, "Master Bruce?"

After moving off of Selina, I replied, "Yes, Alfred?"

"I do hate to wake you at such an hour-."

Selina cut him off, "Oh, he's wide awake."

He paused before continuing, "Sir, Ms. Barbara called, she said for you to contact her as soon as possible, apparently she came across something in her early morning research."

I closed the connection just as he began announcing that breakfast would be served shortly. Rising to my feet, I quickly crossed the dark room and entered the closet, haphazardly donning a pair of jeans and pulling on a polo shirt. Before leaving, I looked to see that Selina had buried herself under the blankets, facing towards the far wall, muttering something about all work and no play.

Opting to return the call elsewhere, I made it to the study as quickly as possible before dialing on the desk phone, unable to even take a seat. Barbara answered on the third ring and her voice was quiet and scratchy. I apologized, "I thought you would have been awake."

She groaned and mumbled, "Oh, I am… but barely. Anyway, I was going over the feeds from last night and they're already spitting out a list of probable suspects. All of them are registered sex offenders with previous histories of domestic violence, substance abuse, the usual rap. I did thorough checks on their suspects but none of them ever went as far as murder."

"What about alibis?"

"Most of them have records of employment, late night custodial workers, taxi drivers, two are even working construction on the Westward Bridge. There are two others in rehab houses that were in by lights out on most of the nights in question and then two more that they can't even find. Feds are bringing them all in for questioning, started an hour ago."

"They've been in town for a week. They have the wrong profile. And the wrong suspects."

"I know," she replied quietly, "I sent you the list they have for primes… Dad was here for breakfast this morning… he kept griping that they're going to pick one with a matching blood type and arrest the poor soul, even if he has a plausible alibi."

I paused, "I'll take a look at them…" As I hung up, I turned to lean against the desk, catching movement from the doorway. Selina stood, wearing my cotton robe, biting her lower lip. "Plans have changed."

"Figured as much. Well, at least that leaves more for me."

It was difficult to decide whether she was joking or if she was truly mad at me. Instead of the trouble of discerning her mood, I commented, "Have all the pillows and breakfast you want."

"What about… then… maybe?"

I crossed the room and gently kissed her cheek, knowing it wasn't even going to make up for a fraction of the neglect I had brought upon her in recent months. She kissed my cheek as well and then pushed me away, "Go."

Leaving her, I crossed the study once more, bypassing the desk and heading straight to the grandfather clock.

^V^

Residence of Peter Placido, June 27th, 6:21 p.m.

His journal entry was only half of a page long for the first time since the first grade.

Granted it had been a slow day, even for a Sunday. After jogging, Pete had tidied up the house and the yard, washed the car inside and out, showered and dressed and had gone into town for a few errands. He had picked up groceries for the next week, picked up his uniforms from the dry cleaners and had then stopped in at barber for a haircut. His curly hair tended to get unmanageable unless kept short and neat. With Wednesday being his first day of training at Wayne Enterprises, he had to do his best to make a memorable impression.

As Pete sat at the old desk, reading through his brief journal entry, he did his best to ignore the soft whispers coming from down the hall. Since he had been accepted under his new employment, he had heard nothing but discouragement from her. She was worried about how they would treat him but he could do nothing to console her. He had tried reasoning with her, explaining how his life was about to change, but in the end there had only been one way to prove to her that everything was okay. Although he had rid the world of a few additional foul souls, she had only lashed out at him, claiming that once they found out his "dirty little secret", they would hurt him.

When Pete closed the notebook, he heard her voice, "You aren't thinking about her, Pete."

He shook his head and closed his eyes tightly.

When he was alone, if he wasn't thinking about his mother, he thought of her.

But for the first time in as long as he could remember, he had gone the entire day without having the Whore's face flash in his mind. He had reasoned that he had done above and beyond his fair share of work lately at making the world a better place. But his mother's pained voice brought images of thick lipstick and arched eyebrows, of too tight shorts and bourbon breath. Seeing the Whore in his mind caused his heart to flutter and within seconds, he could feel his pulse in the temples of his skull.

"Are you now?"

"Yes," he replied. "Yes, I am, mother."

"Good. Are you thinking about what she did?"

He nodded to himself, picturing his mother's dead, pale face, the way his hands had grown sticky as her blood had dried on them. How his father had barely mourned her, letting the Whore convince him to up and leave the place they had once called home. How she had laughed at him, yelled at him, called him names when his father wasn't there. How she had let his father slowly waste away until his liver and heart failed him one last time…

"There are others like her."

"Yes…"

"Other whores just as evil as she was. They are everywhere, Peter, and they are doing very bad things."

"Bad things," he repeated in a mumble, eyes still firmly closed.

"Stop her, Peter, stop her from hurting me again."

"I-," he began to protest.

His mother's voice thundered in his ears, "Hurt her like she hurt me! Like she hurt you!"

Pete hunched over and covered his head with his arms, "I can't..."

"Yes. You can."

"I-"

"You promised me, Peter.'

"… I can," he replied, "I will.

While holding his breath, he waited for her to reply but as his chest grew tight, he had to take in a lungful of air. Not sure if she was gone, Pete sat up slowly, looking about the empty den. He listened intently and heard the faint rumblings of a lawn mower. Then a car door shutting. A peaceful Sunday evening. No, not peaceful.

How could anything be peaceful when there were those who lurked in the shadows, waiting for a chance to strike out at innocents.

^V^

Chloe's, June 27th, 11:58 p.m.

The first time Sharon sat next to him, she hadn't noticed his cute smile. All she had seen were tanned, tone forearms as they rested on the glossy bar, no wedding ring in sight. But when she had gone back to the bar for another drink, she chanced a look at his face and returned the smile. She had approached a few other guys at the bar, but he was the first one who had been good looking enough to pursue. After he nodded curtly, she watched as he dropped his eyes and studied the smooth maple of the bar.

"Hi, I'm Sharon."

He looked up after a second and returned a quiet, "I'm Drew."

"What are you drinking there?"

He glanced at his empty glass and said, "Just a light draft."

"Ah, how bout a fill up?" Where most girls waited for guys to buy them drinks Sharon had always been more direct, offering to switch roles in order to break the ice. Her friends had always been surprised when it actually worked. Since her two friends, Stacy and Betts, had bailed on her, Sharon had decided to find someone else to hang out with for the evening. And the curly haired cutie was certainly her top pick.

One beer led to another, which lead to light conversation, more beer, innocent flirting, more talk and before either knew it, physical contact. He seemed to genuinely be bashful; something Sharon had rarely seen since her high school days many moons ago. Thinking back on those times, he actually reminded her of one of her sophomore year boyfriends, Jay. Same short curly hair and deep hazel eyes, and just as sweet as could be. The person whom she sat beside, sharing drinks and stories with was hardly a boy. Well built, his upper arms and chest thick and strong, leading up to broad shoulders. Although the burly types were never her favorite, Drew's good nature and kind eyes put her at ease.

As the bartender made the first announcement that last call was approaching, Drew smirked, "That late already? Guess time flies."

Sharon smirked, patting his arm, "Certainly does. There's a café across the street, a block away… if you wanted to go, that is."

"Sounds great."

He had paid their combined tab in cash, assuring her it was his pleasure. He had mentioned that he worked for City Hall but she couldn't exactly remember what he did specifically. As they made their way out through the throng of people, he gently ushered her out the open door with his fingertips on the small of her back.

As they walked in the warm, late night air, she mused how it was odd that he had donned a light wool coat before leaving the bar. When he noticed her staring, he mentioned that he tended to be cold-blooded. Then, he asked, "Have you always lived here? In the city?"

"No, I grew up in Ohio, moved here with my mom and my step-dad like eight years ago. I mean, Columbus was a big place but no where near as big as Gotham… after ten years, I'm still overwhelmed sometimes. How about you?"

"For quite a while now. I grew up in a rural town about forty miles out of the city, but after my mother passed away we moved closer to the city."

As they paused for safe passage through the crosswalk, Sharon's face grew somber as a sudden flash of pity came over her, "I'm so sorry, about your mom."

He shrugged slowly as he looked down at her, "It's okay. It happened when I was young."

"That's probably worse. Not having her in your life all those years. I couldn't even imagine, my mom and I are very close. I don't know what I would do without her. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

He shook his head and settled his gaze on the light flashing across the street, informing them it was safe to cross. After they quickly made their way across the street, she took a a moment to look him over in better lighting. Despite his amiable smile and calm features, she could tell he was hurting on the inside. The corners of his eyes wrinkled just so and the emotion behind his golden irises welled.

It was refreshing to meet a guy in tune with his emotions, especially in a bar in Goth-.

Sharon's line of thought was cut short as she felt his strong arms lock around her and shove her hard into a small narrow opening between two dark office buildings.

Having grown up with older brothers, she was accustomed to rough housing and could tell instantly that the man who was pinning her against the brick texture of the wall was not playing. His broad hand pressed firmly over her mouth, muffling any sound she tried to emit. Drew's other hand had her wrists in a vice like grip behind her lower back. Sharon's only free appendages were legs, but he was quick to stomp on the instep of one sharply before firmly situating his broad feet over hers, pinning them to the pavement.

Dread washing over her, Sharon was only further pushed into despair when she looked up and into his eyes that a moment earlier had been so soft and readable. In the darkness of the alleyway, they seemed to glow, fierce and restless.

Suddenly, he started to shake his head as he whispered, "No… no."

Sharon let tears fall from her eyes, the drops running over his fingers as they clamped tightly on her face. She heard him whisper again, "It shouldn't be this way. Shouldn't be this easy."

A car drove by and she bit down hard on his hand, using the momentary release on her mouth to scream for help. Instead of a loud cry of desperation, she had hoarsely called out, her throat dry from sheer panic. His fist connected with her jaw and she bit down hard on her tongue. When he gripped her again. she tasted his blood as it mixed with hers.

Heart pounding deep within her chest, she wondered how someone could change so quickly, how a decent man could switch into a rabid monster.

He drew her focus back to the present, releasing his hold on her hands in order to grip her throat, pressing down on her trachea and trapping the air in her chest. With his injured hand he jabbed at her abdomen, forcing whatever was in her lungs out in a gushing exhale. The unfamiliar wave of lightheadedness came over her, but she did her best to focus her energy into trying to hurt him again. Clawing at his face, trying to kick him in the groin, anything to get him to release his hold just the slightest bit.

Futile efforts, as she tired too quickly from oxygen deprivation, gasping for breath silently.

He shook his head again.

Suddenly, he loosened his hold and a rush of oxygen flooded her lungs and stepped off of her feet. Instead of taking the moment to make her escape, she had faulted, drawing in air hungrily. If she had clawed at his face or punched him the solar plexus, she could have tried to run away. She could have made it to the street, started screaming for help. Surely he wouldn't continue his assault under the bright street lights…

But she didn't.

She could only stand there and breathe in and out, as if it were for the last time.

Then she felt it. A shock of pain as something slick and sharp pierced ribcage. She gasped in pain but there was no sound, even as he withdrew the blade and stabbed again, this time lower on her side. The third time she felt the white-hot pain, it was just below her sternum. Her breath came in short rasps and to her surprise, he had no hold on her whatsoever, letting gravity carry her to the pavement.

He crouched in front of her, his eyes still bright in the dimness of the alley, "Does it hurt?"

The pain was unbearable. She could feel the warmth of her blood as it trickled down her side. And a growing tightness in her chest with every breath she managed.

"It's nothing compared to what your kind did to me. To my mother," he growled then paused before finishing, "You'll never hurt anyone now. Whore."

She took in a shaky breath and squeezed her eyes shut as tight as possible, so that when she opened them it would all have been a drunken dream. But when she opened them a moment later as she felt his right hand tugging up the hem of her skirt. In a last attempt to try and understand what had happened, she gurgled, "Why?"

"I'm a good person. You're not. It's my responsibility. I promised her," he ripped her blouse off, exposing her pale flesh and garish wounds, "And good people keep their promises."

^V^

Franklin Drive Alley, June 28th, 4:45 a.m.

"No way, Gordon, absolutely not."

I stood on a fire escape landing three stories up and looked down at the crime scene, an alley that was no more than a compact car's length of space between the two buildings. Aside from garbage dumpsters and empty cardboard boxes, only small amounts of trash littered the pavement. That and the body of Sharon Watson.

A dark alley, bathed in spotlights and the flicker of squad car lights. Scanners and radios squawked, orders were shouted, cameras snapped. Yellow tape, curious bystanders, draped body in a pool of blood.

A crime scene I had been privy to a thousand times over.

Not that it made it any easier.

Upon arriving ten minutes earlier, I had happened upon Commissioner Gordon in a heated debate with SAIC Caffery while forensics and FBI agents fought over evidence. Since their arrivals, bodies had been turning up at a faster rate, no doubt the killer alarmed by their presence. Their list of suspects was a joke, and had they been pooling their resources into finding connections between the crime scenes, they might have stumbled upon something… or at least kept busy enough to stay out of my way.

I had already scanned the immediate area before settling on the fire escape, taking in the unsavory feud between the federal agent in charge and my long time friend and ally.

Gordon crossed his arms over his chest, "I'm sorry, he's not under my control. If he wishes to continue his investigation into the matter, I can't stop him."

Caffery, who looked far too pressed and prim for the early hour, put his hands on his hips and pushed back his sport coat to reveal his holstered weapon. Showing off. He lowered his voice to a growl, "If you can't stop him, I will."

A half-smile flashed briefly on my face before I resumed my focus on the scene.

A early morning dog walker had been dragged over to the body by the small herd of toy dogs he had been strolling with. Passing the alley on their regular route, he had claimed that the dogs had gone berserk and wouldn't leave what was in there alone.

Animals and the smell of blood.

At the same time, I had been debating whether to head home for the night or to spy on the federal agent suites for a while when the scanner had come to life.

Just as the display on the cowl lenses read five in the morning, Caffery's cell phone rang and he abruptly spun away from Gordon before answering it. Given the window of opportunity, I made my way down the rusted fire escape, being sure not to make my presence heard below. When I was on the final landing eight feet above the pavement, the closer vantage point drawing my gaze to the sterile sheet spread out over a motionless figure.

The width of the alley seemed claustrophobic on its own, let alone when it was occupied with over a dozen law enforcers. As always, my mind went to a dark place, thinking what she must of felt being pushed in from the street and attacked in the quiet dark of the night. Crying for help, but no one coming to save her. That last moment when all hope is lost.

My mind automatically flashed to Crime Alley and how it looked to my eight year old eyes.

"Boss, how are things looking?" Oracle's voice came over the comm. link.

"Caffery and his crew are already taking over the scene. Overheard an argument he had with Gordon about my involvement."

"Well, that's no surprise," she mocked.

Before I could ask for information on the newest victim she spoke, "Well, looks like this time our killer picked the wrong girl. Her step-father is Deputy Mayor Charles McGillian. He's already arranged to speak on Morning Gotham News at Six and to hold a press conference later this morning, featuring the FBI profile they have on the suspect. Still uncertain as to whether or not they are going to release any suspect names."

Over the course of the day, she had been diligent in obtaining information and even live feed into the interrogation rooms at police headquarters. They had managed to bring in all but two of the suspects in for questioning and nothing had resulted after hours of fruitless effort and screaming on Caffery's part. With the remaining two unaccounted for, I had instinctively looked for their names on the list of attendees at Mimi's Bar. Regrettably, there was no match, but there was a chance the bartender had forgotten about someone, ever after multiple questionings.

Still on his cell phone, I watched as Caffery pulled up his slacks and squatted next to the victim's body. He partially pulled back the sheet and stared intently at the Deputy Mayor's former sep-daughter. It was my first glance at the victim, and even without closer inspection I recognized the savage wounds on her side, the bruising on her throat, ripped skirt and blood shot eyes.

I found myself looking down at Gordon as he stood alone, "They'll try to appease the city with a profile, a name of a suspect. Someone they can blame it one, someone they can all hate…"

She agreed quietly and replied, "Well, if he keeps this pace up, and keeps acting so publicly, it's only a matter of time before he errs."

Hoping that he killed more people in order to help me catch him left a foul taste in my mouth. After having her contact Robin and Batgirl in order to tell them to call it a night, she asked if I needed Dick to make his way up to me from Glenville. The borough he was wrapping up in was a fairly lively one most nights, so I had her keep him there until things were taken care of.

I closed the connection and continued to watch the scene as it was catalogued, photographed and cleaned. Since the bureau's involvement, it had been difficult to get a look at the victims before they were loaded in the coroner's van. Gordon had some pull but with Caffery's firm position and blatant hatred of me, even he couldn't let me onto an active scene with so many armed federal agents nearby.

Which was why I waited for the body to be loaded, the agents to retreat to their vehicles and for Caffery to confront Gordon once more. Thankfully, the commissioner had made his way towards the rear of the narrow alley, practically beneath me. While Caffery began to speak his mind, I dropped to the pavement soundlessly, mere feet behind him.

"That was her step-father… he's coming down to the morgue with his wife to ID the body."

Gordon nodded, "Anything else?"

"Aside from the fact he, of all people, just lost his daughter to some mass murderer that's been terrorizing his city all year?"

"Her father's status doesn't make her any more of a victim than the others," I growled.

Although Gordon had already spotted me, Caffery had been completely unaware, spinning around, cursing under his breath. Despite the fact that it was our first, official encounter, he quickly regained his composure and was quick to point a finger in my direction, "What the hell are you doing here? This is police business, not a costume party."

"Same thing you're trying to do, Agent Caffery. Solve a murder."

Gordon stepped forward, recognizing the tension in my voice, "Agent Caffery, it's best not to-."

"More like tainting a crime scene," he snapped at me, "How long have you been here?"

"Longer than you."

Gordon stepped between us and said, "It seems damn stupid to be fighting over something so petty... Especially with another dead girl on our heads."

Caffery pointed at himself then Gordon, "Right OUR heads, not yours. Why don't you busy yourself chasing the Joker or whoever. I've got a real crime to solve."

Although I could have easily knocked him down a peg, literally and figuratively, I let him pass by and step back to his precious crime scene. I heard my friend sigh quietly and turned to face him. He was wiping his glasses off with the corner of his tie, "Well, now that he's left, you should know whose step-daughter the victim is-."

I cut in and said the Deputy Mayor's name.

He hardly looked surprised and said, "Right as always. I also don't have to tell you what this means for us… having to bring him in… If Caffery is as gung-ho as his reputation says he is, if he brings this guy in… it'll be in a rain of bullets, casualties on both sides."

I nodded in agreement before firing a grappling hook to the top of the fire escape, speaking before retracting it, "And that's where I come into play."

Still putting my return to the Manor off, I made my way to the morgue. Barbara stayed online as well, keeping on top of information as forensics started uploading their first photographs. In addition, she already programmed the crays to record any and all new broadcasts, starting with the Deputy Mayor's statement on the morning news. Without being asked, she said, "Well, everyone else is signed off… I think I'm going to catch a few hours… rest up before everything goes to pieces."

I had been perched on the window ledge of the city morgue, using a long distance listening device to listen in as Dr. Jonathan Pierce arrived to perform his sixth young girl that had been stabbed and choked to death. Looking at the cowl display, I was surprised to see it was nearly six in the morning, dawn rapidly approaching.

I asked her to activate the tap at the morgue and feed into the cameras then signed off myself. The drive out of the city came in flashes, my mind barely registering the lanes inbound already packed with commuters. As the sun broke over the horizon, I faintly recalled seeing deer on the side of the roads leading through the Bristol countryside. Somehow, I ended up in the Cave, the Mobile parked but the engine still running, in addition to Alfred standing on the driver's side with a worried look on his face.

After killing the ignition and making my way out of the vehicle, he was quick to note, "Ms. Barbara called earlier to inform me of your late arrival, had I known it was going to be this late, I would have had breakfast warm and ready."

Pulling the cowl back, I rubbed my tired face with a gloved hand, "I'm not hungry."

"But of course… shall I prepare a carafe of Columbian roast?"

"No… I'll be heading upstairs momentarily."

"Very good, sir. Your bed will at least be warm and ready." When I looked at him quizzically, he explained, "Ms. Selina chose to stay another night. To await your return."

He left me to change and find my own way upstairs, most likely banking on the fact that I wasn't heading to bed at all. Rather than prove him right by sitting at the computer to log in patrols, I found the will to leave the Cave even if only for an hour or two. The Manor was a few degrees warmer and my skin tingled briefly with the change in temperature.

Matching the fact that my stomach was burning with another failure.

Selina was buried beneath the blankets, just as she had been the night before when I had found her, softly illuminated by a bedside lamp. A paperback book had fallen of the edge of the bed and had landed on the carpet and I picked it up and set on the night stand. Turning off the light, I carefully reclined beside her in bed, not even bothering with the covers.

She rolled over after a moment. "What time?" her voice asked, muffled and sleep slurred.

"Late, go back to sleep."

Selina made an attempt to find me in the darkness, finally patting my cheek with her hand, "… take your own advice." She shifted closer to me and set her head in the crook of my neck.

As her fingers entwined with mine, she asked, "Want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Good, don't want to hear about it…"

I cut her off, "I thought we were sleeping."

"I thought you were being annoying."

I smirked in the cover of darkness and replied, "That was... catty."

At that, she rolled away, taking the covers with her and mumbling something about being a few bats short of a belfry.

^V^